


Standing Orders

by Shadowesque



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 11:37:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10898568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowesque/pseuds/Shadowesque
Summary: Wherein Church is a real boy and alive. Prompted with: “I’d tell you not to tell me what to do, but I think I’d do it anyway.“





	Standing Orders

The thing about Church, literally anyone named Church, Wash decides, is that you can’t tell Church what to do.  You can’t give him orders.  You can’t expect him to actually follow through - initially.  He’ll bitch and snap, grumble about it, then come back and do the thing you originally told him to do pretending it was his own gloryhogging idea to begin with.

First it pisses him off.  But after a while, it’s kind of endearing.  In a way that still pisses him off.

–

Wash starts off cold. He’s used to orders being given and followed.  No questions.  No whining.  No bitching.  No comebacks.  So when he figures out how Church works, and when it stops making him want to shoot some non-vital parts of his body, he decides that there’s nothing wrong in having a little fun with his ‘orders’.  Sometimes it’s something useless that he just explains away as 'training’.  Have to keep the strength up, endurance, and hell, basic had Wash doing worse, more pointless things for the same reason.

It’s when he gets to "say pretty please” and “go fetch Tucker from his 'secret place’” that Church is starting to cotton onto the fact that he’s being played.  That almost makes it better.  Because now they’re both in on the game.  (Wash is always going to remember the time Church definitely grumblingly grudgingly said _pretty fucking please with a motherfucking cherry on the god damn top_. He wishes he’d recorded that shit.)

The important stuff still gets done.  Church starts to understand the difference in inflection, in tone, between what constitutes an actual order, and what’s a tease.  It’s their inside joke in the few spaces of downtime they can cobble together, and Wash enjoys when Church occasionally swallows his pride and does something just for him.

Wash upgrades to “give us a kiss” one day, and the look of murder on Church’s face was almost ( _almost_ ) not funny.  He lets it go, thinks he’ll just apologize to Church later, maybe he’s found an area not to joke or whatever.  So when Church storms back in a few hours later and kisses him on the cheek, he’s honestly surprised.  Moreso when Church grumbles to be more specific next time before walking (swaggering) away.

–

They cruise like this for a while; he can’t even count the days. Wash gives Church one of their little joke orders.  Church eventually complies after some cursing and pretending he’s not going to.  It’s a lot of power, but Wash likes to think he wields it fairly.  Tells him to sit in his lap, or lick his throat, or give him a hickey.  Doesn’t say to lick his boots, or get on his knees and open his mouth, or wear a collar.  He _could_ , that’s the thought that catches him unawares sometimes, that he _could_ , and Church probably _would_.  But there’s enough trust to know that it won’t happen, and even if it did, he’s certain Church wouldn’t do anything he absolutely didn’t want to. That’s not how a game works.

–

“Fall in love with me,” he says one night when they’re in bed together, cozied up, sharing body heat and heartbeat.

Church snorts, rolling over so his back faces Wash.  "Dumbass, you’re supposed to tell me to do something I’m not already doing.“

–

It happens so fast.  Church is on the ground in a split second, a hole torn into him where a bullet found a sweet spot in the armor.  Wash is pressing on it, screaming over the comm for Doc, or literally anyone else even relatively trained in medicine.  Church is trying not to scream in pain himself, though the sheer shock value of being shot might be helping.

They’re ducked low enough that they won’t make good targets.  Close enough for Wash to pretend he can see Church’s face through their visors.  "You are not going to die,” he says through grit teeth. “That’s an _order_.”

Church groans and coughs, grips Wash’s arm.  "Don’t fucking tell me what to do.“

They both laugh until Church’s hand slips away.

–

He laughs until he cries when Church wakes up two days later, patched up as best as they could, looking forward to recovery, and groggily tells Wash, "Hey, this living thing. It’s pretty great. Glad I thought of it.”


End file.
